


A Night With the Lads

by Rubynye



Category: Lord of the Rings (2001 2002 2003)
Genre: M/M, Nonmonogamy, Threesome Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-09
Updated: 2010-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-06 01:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rubynye/pseuds/Rubynye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frodo spends an evening, a night, and a morning with three of his favorite hobbitlads.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Night With the Lads

_ **A Night With The Lads (NC-17; F/M/P, F/S, M/P, bits of S/M and S/P)** _

I should just say "alphabet soup" in the subject line.

Anyhow. I was going to keep this one for the weekend, but I think I'd better post it before I keep prodding at it till I spoil it. I'm not sure yet if I'm going to post it to [](http://community.livejournal.com/the_hobbitpile/profile)[**the_hobbitpile**](http://community.livejournal.com/the_hobbitpile/); it seems kind of borderline on its F/S and M/P to F/M/P ratio. *rereads and shudders* I am not reducing hobbitslash to equations. Anyway.

Before I forget: this is another story inspired by one of [](http://hyel.livejournal.com/profile)[**hyel**](http://hyel.livejournal.com/)'s lovely artworks, in this case [Sam Baiting](http://www.sentai.org/~hyel/lotr/fanart/sambaitingcolor.jpg). Hee!

Title: A Night With the Lads  
Author: Ruby Nye  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairings: Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin in various arrangements.  
Categories: slash, threesome, Shireromp, unabashed hobbitporn.  
Summary: Frodo spends an evening, a night, and a morning with three of his favorite hobbitlads.  
Disclaimer: Not my characters, not my world, not my money.

"You should come visit, Frodo!" Pippin raised his tankard in salute to his own idea; Sam, sandwiched between Pippin and Merry, ducked to avoid being knocked on the head. Frodo laughed as he watched Pippin, laughed as he only did when he was with his two best cousins, as Pippin jubilantly continued, "you should bring Sam, too!"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Pippin," Sam growled, "but I can't leave the Bag End gardens so long, surely not at this time of year." Pippin laughed at Sam's tone, a kitten purring at a watchdog, and nudged Sam's forehead with his as he replied, "I'm sure Frodo can release you from planting and weeding for a handful of days."

Merry snorted. "Peregrin Took, there's no need to start working your way through Hobbiton, you haven't done with Brandy Hall yet." Merry took a swig of ale as Pippin pouted at him, while Sam glared past Pippin at the silently giggling Frodo.

"Merry, you're just jealous," Pippin retorted in indignant tones, "and I was too little when you and Sam were tweens together." Sam went from tomato red to beet red as he transferred his glare to Merry; Frodo's giggles became audible. "Besides, my bed at Great Smials is big enough for four, let alone three."

Sam's mouth fell open as he turned back to Pippin. "Mr. Pippin, what in all the Shire?" Pippin grinned at Sam's shocked response, waggling his eyebrows and saying "Merry and I make a great team," as cheerfully as if he were discussing a prank or a project. Sam's mouth fell open further, but no sound came out; Frodo leaned forward, stifling another giggle as he said, trying to sound disinterested, "so I'm not the only one you two share."

Merry's eyes flickered over to Frodo's face at that; Frodo smiled reassuringly at him as Pippin replied, "oh no, it's a grand trick. Whatever lass or lad one of us can't get, they can never resist the both of us." While Pippin launched into a tale of a shy lass he and Merry had drawn out over several days, and how well rewarded they were for doing so, Frodo caught Sam's eye and winked reassuringly, and Sam shut his mouth and breathed again and faded back down to a dark pink.

Pippin finished that story and launched into, "And then, Folco's cousin Ferdie Boffin---" but Merry cut him off with "Pippin, don't tell all our secrets," as he reached behind Sam to ruffle Pippin's curls; Pippin smiled unapologetically and tilted his head to kiss the heel of Merry's hand. Frodo drained his tankard, cleared his throat, and said, "you've shocked Sam into silence, Pip; I think we've all had enough ale for one night."

"I ain't shocked," Sam insisted stoutly as he got up from the bench, though he was still flushed. "Just a bit surprised with you two, Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin. Begging your pardon, but you're rather wild."

Merry merely grinned. "I'm twenty-seven," Pippin said loftily, "And I'm not wild, I'm _lively_." With that he swooped forward and kissed Sam, full on the mouth, then spun away and danced ahead of the other three; Sam turned beet red again, and Merry and Frodo looked at each other and laughed.

 

 

"Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go!" Merry and Pippin danced through the spring night on their way back up to Bag End, arms slung round each other's shoulders as they sang. Sam had tried to walk behind, but Frodo caught his arm, and they walked together under the flowering trees, occasionally catching a nightjar's song or crickets chirping when Merry and Pippin paused for breath or to kiss.

"How are you, Sam?" Frodo asked softly, without preamble. Sam understood, and smiled. "I'm fine, Mr. Frodo."

"That was quite a blush before." Frodo lightly stroked Sam's cheek, now a normal shade of golden pink. "Pippin didn't push too hard?"

"Mr. Pippin? No, I know him, he's always been so." Frodo returned Sam's smile. "I just, well, he is handsome, for a thin little tween." Frodo's smile bloomed into a grin, Sam's cheek heating again beneath his hand. "If he weren't the Thain's heir, and I weren't your gardener lad..." Frodo rolled his eyes, even as he smiled to hear Sam say 'your'; he nodded encouragingly, and Sam went on, eyes on their feet. "Still, I wonder but that he wants what Mr. Merry had, is all."

"I think Pippin wants you, Sam. I can see why any hobbit would." Sam smiled, looking up at Frodo from beneath his lashes, and Frodo reminded himself that he shouldn't exactly kiss Sam in the middle of the road. "I don't think Pippin's merely keeping score with Merry."

"Even so, it is just a tumble he wants. I like it to mean more," Sam said, head coming up, brown eyes bottomless in the dim light and turned entirely on Frodo; Frodo discarded _shouldn't_'s and leaned forward to kiss Sam for a long warm moment, before Sam's broad hand on his shoulder gently pushed him back. "We're in the road, Mr. Frodo," Sam reminded him, "and we're nearly to Bag End."

"Oh, I suppose," Frodo replied, running his finger over Sam's bottom lip, before he broke away to catch up with his cousins, who pulled him in between them, and they climbed up together to open the front door.

 

 

The moment his last bite of seedcake vanished between his lips Pippin gazed expectantly at Merry; Merry responded by making a small production of discarding the core of his apple and licking his fingers carefully, and Frodo looked over his teacup's rim from Merry's finger-sucking to Pippn's breathless impatience and back again, not daring to actually drink lest the laugh he was restraining escape messily into the tea. Then his eyes found Sam's, warm and amused, and he put his teacup down to smile.

Merry finally finished and looked at Pippin, who exhaled noisily, and then Merry and Pippin were attacking Frodo in unison, hauling him up out of his chair. "All that talk of our Brandy Hall adventures reminded me," Pippin breathed into Frodo's ear as Frodo laughed into Merry's apple-flavored kiss, one arm around each cousin's shoulders as they pulled him to his feet.

Merry broke the kiss to lean his cheek against Frodo's, winding his arms round Frodo's waist. "Mind if we borrow your Mr. Frodo for the night?" Merry called to Sam, who gave them a sort of complicated smile and shook his head acquiescently; Merry started to turn back to Frodo, but paused when Pippin turned outward, leaving one arm round Frodo's shoulders but extending the other hand to Sam as he asked, "Come with us?"

Sam gave that a rather different sort of smile. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Pippin, but that's too rich for my blood. Thank you kindly, though." Sam crossed to them and leaned forward, hands at his sides, to kiss Frodo; then he looked over at Merry, who looked at him, and they leaned towards each other at the same moment. Pippin gasped; tearing his eyes from the two fair heads together, Frodo turned to see Pippin watching with parted lips and shining eyes.

When Sam leaned back Frodo looked at him, glowing rosy-golden with a small smile on his lips, and then at Merry, happily dazed. Warmth curling in his stomach, Frodo thought _This is going to be a good night_; then Pippin chirped, though his eyes were still shining, "don't I get a kiss too?"

Sam sighed, and smiled, and leaned towards Pippin, who pushed his free hand up into Sam's curls to hold him; Sam made a choked sort of sound, turning red, his hands fisting and blooming, and Merry nudged Frodo as they watched the muscles of Pippin's jaw work lazily for a long moment. When he finally released a breathless Sam, Pippin's smile was positively wicked; he tucked the hand just returned from Sam's curls around Frodo's waist and purred, "we'll take good care of him, Sam," and with that he and Merry tugged Frodo off down the hall.

 

 

"Pippin Took, you're a naughty creature," Frodo murmured into the ear he was licking, as Pippin undid his buttons with nimble fingers. Pippin laughed, eyes half-lidded, smoothing Frodo's shirt off his shoulders without looking. "You tease Sam something fierce."

"It's not teasing if you mean it," Pippin retorted, fingers moving lower. Merry snorted from the bed, where he lounged, already out of his clothes. "You're a flighty creature, Pip. Sam is solid."

"Yes, he is," Pippin replied, "and golden, and strong, and those shoulders! You lucky hobbit, Frodo." When Frodo laughed at that Pippin took advantage of his open mouth to kiss him, pressing him towards the bed; Frodo obediently walked backwards until he fell into the soft bed. "And you too, Merry," Pippin went on irrepressibly, as Merry helped Frodo wiggle backwards. "I was so envious of you when I was little and you were a tween."

"You seem to be catching up, if not past and ahead," Merry observed, before leaning down to kiss Frodo himself as Pippin quickly shucked his clothes and climbed in with them; Frodo gently pushed Merry away to turn and address Pippin sternly, at least as sternly as he could from flat on his back. "Sam is serious about such things," he told his green-eyed cousin, kneeling beside him. "And I am serious about Sam, and I won't have you upsetting him."

"All right, Frodo," Pippin said lightly, stretching out. "But he is good to look at, and a good sturdy warm-hearted hobbit, and he takes good care of you, and I like him."

"You like everyone," Merry replied, reaching across Frodo to pull Pippin closer; Pippin shook his head, and gave Merry one of those green gazes that seemed to come from a different Pippin entirely. "No, Merry, I love Frodo, and I love you," Pippin said seriously, and leaned across Frodo to kiss a rather gobsmacked Merry. An arm around each pair of shoulders again, Frodo watched them kiss, Pippin sharp-nosed and tween-thin with fine beautiful bones, Merry growing into a handsome adult sturdiness, and thought of how when they had to leave Sam would still be here in the Bag End garden and the bright kitchen and his bed and his heart, and wondered at his great good fortune in his life. Then his cousins broke their kiss and turned their attention to him, and soon Frodo wasn't thinking anything at all except _yes, more, more_.

 

 

A few minutes later Merry, loosely wrapped in an unbelted robe of Frodo's, came back out to the kitchen, where he discovered Sam finishing the washing-up. "Hullo, Sam!" he said cheerfully, smiling at Sam's startled look. "As long as I have you here----" and Merry dropped his voice, coming near to Sam, "---do you have anything to report?"

"Nothing new, Mr. Merry," Sam whispered, blushing again. Merry regarded him with a critical grey eye, then stepped closer, pinning Sam against the wall by the washtub. "You're certain, Sam?"

"Mr. Merry...." Sam looked down, discovered how dangerous Merry's undone robe made that, blushed harder, and shut his eyes. "You know this don't sit right, spying on Mr. Frodo for you."

From when they'd met as small lads Merry had always loved making Sam blush, and since they'd grown old enough for tween games he found it quite stirring. "And you know I asked because we love him and mean to help him, to help you help him." Merry watched Sam's golden lashes tremble on red cheeks, and thought that Pippin had the right of it. "We need your help, Sam."

Sam looked up at that last statement, shy and strong, and Merry remembered how nice it had been to kiss him when they were tweens together. "Pippin's right," he said slyly, "you should join us, you still could." The shade of red that evoked was quite mouthwatering, even as Sam laughed. "Get along with you now, Mr. Merry," Sam said with amused firmness, pushing Merry away gently with one broad hand. "You're awful wicked."

"I know," Merry said cheerfully as he turned to fetch a mug; a moment's rummaging in the pantry and he had it half full with walnut oil, while Sam put his cloak on again. "Goodnight, Sam!" Merry called, and when Sam turned round he winked; Sam shook his head and smiled, and Merry grinned and went back down the hall.

 

 

When Merry returned to Frodo's bedroom Pippin was on top, limbs wound around Frodo as he kissed him deeply, all the while pressing down with his hips, slowly and rhythmically, so that Frodo trembled and moaned with each thrust. Merry leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching Pippin and Frodo together, Pippin's chestnut curls spilling into Frodo's dark hair, his limbs freckled against Frodo's smooth pale skin. One of Pippin's green eyes opened and rotated to find Merry, though he kissed Frodo all the while; Merry grinned and came over, setting the cup on the nightstand, and Pippin winked that eye at him and closed it again as he began kissing his way down Frodo's neck, clever fingers dancing and pinching gently down Frodo's body. Frodo clutched him and arched and murmured something too soft to be understood, shivering with pleasure. Pippin freed a hand to hold it out to Merry, and Merry shrugged out of the robe and took Pippin's hand, climbing into the bed to wind himself around them both and suck on one of Frodo's eartips.

Frodo managed a breathless chuckle, eyes still closed. "Hullo, Merry. I'm glad you could join us." The last word was nearly lost in a hissing gasp as Pippin worried at one of Frodo's nipples with sharp teeth; Merry leaned over Frodo, pausing for a moment to look at his fair, flushed cousin before he kissed him. "It looked like Pippin had you well in hand," Merry whispered as he kissed his way along Frodo's jaw, his hands sinking into Frodo's and Pippin's hair, "but I didn't want to miss out."

Frodo turned another gasp into another breathless laugh. "Careful, Merry, he'll get a swelled--!" Pippin quelled Frodo's comment by slipping swiftly from Merry's grasp to plunge his mouth down onto Frodo; then, at the answering cry, Pippin raised his head to smirk as he said, "Looks like you've already got a swelled head."

"Pippin---" Frodo tried to sound commanding, but Merry sank his teeth slowly into Frodo's neck, and the word emerged between an entreaty and a wail. Merry would have smirked if he could; it took both of them to drive their normally bossy cousin to distraction, but they could do it, he and Pip. Pippin's green eyes caught Merry's, echoing the thought triumphantly, before he took pity on Frodo and bent to his task again, as Merry stroked his hand over the nipples Pippin had nibbled, and Frodo arched beneath their combined onslaught, moaning something liquid and unintelligible.

Frodo looked delicious as he writhed and moaned, and Merry leaned down to kiss him, but kept his eyes open; it was quite something, to kiss Frodo, to feel that witty mouth gone sweetly yielding and wet-hot beneath his, while watching Pippin, head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, rosebud lips pink around blood-flushed hardness. Merry enjoyed watching his Pippin do this, not least because he could never manage to keep his eyes open when Pippin sucked him; he remembered, and trembled at the memory, the feeling of Pippin's lips and tongue wrapped hot around him, and when Pippin made a wet humming sound and Frodo bucked and wailed Merry smiled against Frodo's cheek, knowing just what Frodo felt beneath Pippin's clever mouth and fingers. Then, wanting to hear that wail again, Merry nuzzled Frodo's jaw up, pressing his mouth to the side of his throat to deliver a slow bite that made Frodo thrash and scream most obligingly; Pippin made a surpriised 'mmmph!', and Merry giggled against Frodo's neck as he licked the bite, before kissing his way up the long smooth neck to whisper in Frodo's ear, "So, which of us do you want first?"

Merry quite enjoyed how long it took Frodo to reply, opening his mouth twice before he managed to gasp, "Pippin, before he sucks my wits out." Pippin's chuckle was muffled but quite audible; Merry snickered as he reached out a hand to help Pippin sit up. Frodo sighed and slumped against the bed when Pippin released him, disappointment and anticipation chasing each other across his flushed face, and Merry leaned down to kiss him again. "You're beautiful, you know," he whispered, feeling an odd surge of tenderness.

Frodo squeezed Merry's hand, even as he rolled his half-lidded eyes. "I'm a skinny old hobbit," he retorted, and Merry grinned and kissed him again.

"Merry, it's my turn!" Pippin was back across the bed, the cup of oil in his hand; he lunged towards Merry, and the oil sloshed dangerously. "Pippin, mind that," Merry admonished even as he wrapped one arm round Pippin. "If you spill it we'll make you sleep on the stain."

"And wash the sheets," Frodo added as he leaned up on his elbows; Pippin smirked and leaned down to kiss him for reply, holding the mug high and even, then straightened to kiss Merry, who somehow managed enough presence of mind with Pippin's tongue in his mouth to get both hands round the cup. "Get up, Frodo," Pippin insisted, tugging on his cousin's shoulders. "I want you over me."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Frodo observed as he got to his knees; Merry laughed, fingers of one hand in the oil, and said,"yes, and he learned it from you," delighting in the identical looks of outrage they turned to him. "And it suits you both," he whispered over Pippin's mouth just before kissing him, as he wrapped the oily hand around Frodo, who fell warm against his shoulder with a wonderful gasp. "There. Now get to it, cousins, I want my turn."

Pippin obediently flopped onto his back, folding himself up in a way that made the stouter Merry wince slightly. Should hobbits' knees really fit by their shoulders? But then Merry had seen Frodo fold up like that a time or two; perhaps it was just a trick of being slender. Merry rested on one elbow beside them, holding the cup steady, as Frodo dunked his hand in it and Pippin objected, "Didn't you hear Merry? I'm ready, come here."

"Don't be impatient." Frodo smacked Pippin on the rump. "And hold still." The smack became a caress, up and around and carefully sinking in; Pippin hissed and closed his eyes, his hands and ankles both on Frodo's shoulders. "How can I when you're---oh! Just---there! Yes!" Two fingers now, and Pippin was already arching his back, as Frodo bit his lip in concentration. "Frodo, please!"

That particular tone in Pippin's voice was always hard to resist. Trembling just a little, Frodo glanced over at Merry, who nodded and grinned reassuringly. "Pippin," Frodo breathed, trying to go slowly, but Pippin reached for his waist and tugged, and cried out as Frodo all but fell forward. "Yes, pound me, yes," Pippin moaned, "right through the bed." Frodo shook his head, pushing back, and when he thrust forward Pippin bucked and screamed.

Well, how might any hobbit resist that? Merry knew he'd never been able to. Frodo certainly couldn't either, as he murmured something under his breath and found a rhythm, as Pippin locked his ankles behind Frodo's neck and clutched his waist and bucked back against him, moaning in time. What a sight they were, Merry thought, resting on his elbow and watching his two handsomest lads in all the Shire; even if they were both so thin they'd hardly make a sturdy hobbit between them, they were both beautiful in it, the candlelight playing over the sharpnesses and shadows of Pippin's body as he arched and panted, sparkling off the sheen of Frodo's flushed velvet skin. Merry wrapped his free hand lightly round Pippin, letting their motion do the rest of the work, and it hardly took a half-dozen strokes before Pip shook his curls back and forth and gasped and wailed and peaked. Feeling him, Frodo trembled all the harder, his murmurs shading up into a cry of his own as Pippin bit his lip and returned the thrusts more strongly, and Frodo slumped onto him, burying his face in chestnut curls and shaking as if he'd come apart, as if he were being put back together.

Merry had barely retrieved his hand when Frodo peaked; now he reached down to put the cup on the floor, then stroked Frodo's back and Pippin's brow till their heaving breaths faded to normal and Pippin could open sparkling green eyes and grin. "Whee," Pippin observed.

"Mmmph," Frodo replied, pushing himself up on his elbows with an effort. "You took it out of me, you demanding Took. I don't know if there's any left for Merry."

"I have faith in you," Merry replied, leaning over to kiss Frodo's throat where it met his shoulder. Frodo gasped and shuddered, and Pippin giggled, pushing Frodo into Merry's arms. "Get on with you two, then," Pippin said brightly. "Where's the towel?" Merry tossed it vaguely in Pippin's direction as Frodo wriggled around in his arms to kiss him; they both giggled when Pippin's cloth-wrapped hand pushed between them, before Pippin stretched himself out at their side. Merry glanced sideways to see Pippin lying with his head propped on his hand, watching them and smiling, just before Frodo nipped at his lip and claimed all his attention again; Frodo kissed Merry firmly, one hand in his hair to hold him, one hand sliding down Merry's side and over his hip to wrap round him. "So," he whispered across Merry's lips, "how do you want this?"

Merry blinked, Frodo's bright blue gaze only slowly coming into focus, the blood roaring in his ears. Watching Pippin and Frodo together had roused even more than he'd expected, and the way Frodo was twisting his hand now made it delightfully difficult to think. "I don't, I don't think I can choose."

"Make it so I can watch him," Pippin put in; Frodo nodded, a glint in his eye, and leaned over to kiss Pippin as he said, "I think I know just what to do."

"I think I'm in trouble," Merry retorted; Frodo grinned for reply, and leaned down again, but instead of kissing Merry he bit him on his shoulder, and Merry bucked beneath him, gasping. Frodo unwound his fingers from Merry's hair, drawing them down across the back of his neck and up over his chest, as he started biting his way down across Merry's body, licking at each one, soothing it with his fingers as he laid the next; Merry twisted one of his hands into the coverlet as he closed his eyes and let the sweet pain pulse through him, and Pippin held the other.

Frodo laid a final bite to Merry's hip and kissed his way across. "Can you see?" Merry heard Frodo ask Pippin, somewhere far beyond what Frodo's clever hand was currently doing wrapped round him. "Oh, yes," Pippin chirped. "You look quite handsome, Merry. I think you should go to the next ball dressed only in cousins."

"Pip---" was all Merry managed before Pippin leaned over to kiss him, smiling against his mouth when Frodo replaced fingers with lips and Merry couldn't contain a moan. Pippin pulled Merry's hand up to his hair and let it twine into the curls; with his free hands he pulled the cup off the floor and passed it to Frodo, all the while never breaking the kiss, and Merry might have chuckled at Pippin's showy skill if he could have done anything but tremble and feel and moan. Then a warm wet hand cradled his eggs and an oiled finger slid within him, and Merry cried out.

"Mmm, yes, you look wonderful," Pippin breathed, pulling back just a little. "And so do you, Frodo," he added, earning himself a muffled chuckle that Merry felt, warm rousing vibration, more than heard. Frodo added another finger, pushing harder, sucking harder, and Merry felt his spine arch as pleasure crackled up it, felt his heels dig into the bed, felt Pippin's curls between his fingers as Pippin laid his head on Merry's shoulder, stroking his chest with the other hand.

Push and push and _there_ and again and Merry distantly heard himself groan as lightning burst across the inside of his eyelids and all his wit seemingly was pulled out of him by Frodo's lips and tongue and fingers. Far away indeed he felt kisses falling lightly on his heaving chest; when he sank back into himself Frodo and Pippin were wound one round each of his sides, holding each other's hands over his heart. Merry sighed, disentangling his fingers from sheets and curls to bring one hand up around each of them, and, eyes already closed, sank down into sleep.

 

 

Frodo woke to find the bed shaking as if to the drumbeat thudding between his ears. He rolled over to find Merry and Pippin already awake and most certainly not out of bed; Pippin was on top, one of Merry's legs round his waist and Merry's hands wound in his hair, and one of Pippin's hands was out of sight between their bodies.

Well, there were far worse sights of a morning. Frodo rubbed his eyes and sat up, and Pippin opened one eye to look up at him, looking about as pleased as he could without being able to smile. Merry was a bit further gone, moaning low in his throat, his eyes moving beneath closed lids; Frodo leaned over to drop a kiss to Merry's brow and Pippin's cheek, and slid out of the bed, leaving them to it. As he wandered out of his bedroom Frodo picked up a robe and the cup of oil; he dumped the cup out in the privy before bringing it to the kitchen, which he found bright with sunshine, smelling delightfully of fresh bread and roasting apples, and inhabited by Sam, who smiled welcomingly and handed Frodo a mug of tea.

The pounding in Frodo's head seemed to dissolve in the strong, honeyed tea; by the time he finished it he felt capable of saying, "Good morning, Sam!" like an actual hobbit. "Good morning, Mr. Frodo," Sam replied as he took both mugs from Frodo's hands to place in the washtub, then took Frodo's hand in his own and kissed the palm. "I missed waking you, but I've drawn you a bath."

"Oh, bless you, Sam. Come join me?" Frodo nearly laughed at the raised eyebrow that was Sam's reply. "Begging your pardon, Mr. Frodo, but you look a mite underslept."

Now Frodo did laugh. "Your mouth says I look underslept, Sam, but your eyes say that I've been up half the night cavorting and I smell of walnuts, silly gentlehobbit that I am." Sam's eyes went round, and he opened his mouth to reply; Frodo stopped his words with a kiss composed rather more of tongue than lip, and Sam moaned, half-protestingly, though his arm went round Frodo's waist and he returned the kiss before reclaiming his mouth. "You, me dear, are the wickedest of hobbits," Sam scolded, eyes twinkling. "Naughtier than Mr. Pippin, even. Who will, most likely, be up soon with Mr. Merry, and wanting breakfast."

"Oh, they're awake," Frodo replied, tugging Sam along. "But they're not going to be _out of bed_ for a good while." Sam laughed at Frodo's illustrative eyebrow-waggle, pulling him closer against his side. "I suppose I shall come with you, then, Mr. Frodo. Someone should make sure you don't drown yourself." Frodo laughed, and leaned into Sam's warmth, and thought himself the most fortunate hobbit alive.


End file.
